He had to convince her not to go home, but he didn’t want to scare her to death. “We’re not sure money was the motive for the kidnapping.”
Beneath the glare from the technicians’ bright lights, the blood ebbed from her face. “If he didn’t want money, why did he ask me to bring it?”
“Maybe he wanted to harm you and used Chip as bait.” His words were gentle, but the ugliness in their meaning was clear. He ached to hold her. Yes, she’d hurt him, but she didn’t deserve the horror reflected in her eyes. “That’s why you can’t go home. Not tonight. Not until Sid finds out who’s behind this.”
Looking shell-shocked, she nodded. “I’ll find a motel…”
“I’d take you to my house, but I go on duty in a few minutes—”
“I’ve caused you enough trouble—”
“So my dad’s on his way. He’ll ride with you to their house for the night.”
She raked both hands through her hair again, and her eyes filled with panic. “I can’t—”
“Mom is expecting you.” Her apprehension puzzled him until he realized Heather probably feared his parents held a grudge for her treatment of their son. She had loved his parents, and they had been crazy about her.
His mom had never dropped so many hints about marriage concerning any other woman. He’d never told his mother how much Heather’s desertion had hurt him, but his mom was no dummy. She had guessed.
“There’s a crib,” he said, “in the guest room where my sisters’ kids sleep when they visit. Even though Dad’s retired from the force now, he can keep you and your son safe.”
“Your parents won’t want me to stay, not after…” Her mouth worked silently as she fumbled for words.
“If they carried grudges against all my old girl-friends, they’d dislike half the county.” He smiled with satisfaction at his quick comeback. No need to let her think he’d been pining away, even if he hadn’t enjoyed any woman’s company since she’d left. “You and Chip will be safe. The kidnapper won’t think to look for you there.”
“Okay.” Her shoulders drooped as if she’d lost a battle. “But just for tonight. I’m too tired to argue.”
HEATHER TUCKED CHIP into the crib in the Wades’ guest room. He closed his eyes and fell asleep immediately, in spite of his unfamiliar surroundings. Her baby’s day had been a nightmare she didn’t like to think about, even though he showed no outward signs of mistreatment. She smoothed his soft, flushed cheek with the back of her hand and pulled a light blanket over him for protection from the cool flow of the air-conditioning. God willing, he would suffer no permanent trauma, and he seemed to be recovering already.
As soon as they’d reached the Wades’, even through his tiredness, he had giggled at Mame, their fat little terrier, who’d licked the salt tears from his face and dogged his every step.
Margaret and Frank, guessing that the boy probably hadn’t eaten all day, had insisted on feeding him. While Chip had gobbled glazed carrots, mashed potatoes and hot dog cut in tiny pieces, and slipped an occasional bite to Mame, begging beneath the table, they had encouraged her to eat, too. But food wouldn’t navigate past the knot in her throat Even if it had, it wouldn’t have remained long in her roiling stomach. She had escaped one sure catastrophe only to plunge headlong into the likelihood of another.
She turned from the crib and unbuttoned her chambray dress—it seemed like a lifetime instead of only this morning that she’d put it on—and hung it in the closet After slipping into the nightgown Margaret had provided, she climbed into the wide bed and left the bedside table lamp burning in case Chip awakened in the night. He’d be able to see her and maybe wouldn’t be so frightened to find himself in a strange place.
Tense and edgy after the terrifying day, she hadn’t expected to sleep, but she awoke at seven, alert and refreshed from a dreamless night After a quick shower in the adjoining bathroom, she slipped into her dress once more and considered her options.
Dylan wanted her to stay with his parents until the kidnapper was caught, but she didn’t dare remain under the shrewd and watchful eyes of Frank and Margaret. Especially Margaret Without Heather’s saying a word, those two would know her every secret within a couple of days, and she had one secret she had no intention of sharing. Not with anyone.
Going home might have its dangers, but she could minimize them. As much as she hated having to do it, she’d spend some of her savings to have a security system installed. School was out for the summer, and Chip wouldn’t be returning to day care until fall. If she had to go out, she’d call a friend to accompany her.
Besides, she doubted the kidnapper would return. He knew the police were searching for him and would suspect they’d be watching her house. The clincher in her deliberations was the fact that, if she stayed at the Wades’, she would undoubtedly continue to encounter Dylan.
Sounds from the kitchen and the aroma of coffee told her the Wades were also awake. In the crib, Chip breathed heavily, deep in sleep. Leaving the door ajar so she could hear if he called, she crept out of the room and headed toward the kitchen. She would thank the Wades for their hospitality, then awaken Chip and take him home.
When she walked into the sunlit kitchen, words of gratitude died on her lips. The only Wade in sight was Dylan, standing with his hips propped against the counter as he sipped a mug of coffee. His thick hair gleamed like polished maple in the sunlight streaming in the window behind him. His snug T-shirt and even snugger jeans emphasized his athletic build, but the impassive lines of his handsome face offered no clue to his thoughts.
Her pulse quickened and her insides turned soft and quivery. A man that good-looking should come with a warning label. She looked away to hide her reaction and reached for the coffeepot.
“I just came off duty. It’s been a busy night.”
She wheeled to face him. “Did they catch the kidnapper?”
He shook his head. “Mackey lost him in traffic. With dozens of access roads on the highway, he could have turned off anywhere.”
Disappointment zipped through her, but her plans hadn’t changed. She poured her coffee but didn’t take a seat She wouldn’t be there long.
“We may pick up some leads when the forensics reports come in.” Dylan rinsed his empty mug in the sink and dried his hands on a checkered towel. “They found a few fibers and spent cartridges that could point us in the right direction.”
Her trembling hands sloshed coffee from the mug. The longer she stayed in the same room with him, the harder leaving would be. She eased by him and poured her coffee down the drain, but before she could turn to go, he grasped her by the shoulders and twisted her toward him.
“Heather.”
The catch in his voice burned through her like a cauterizing iron. She resisted the urge to sway against him, the desire to feel his arms around her. She dropped her gaze, unable to meet the fierce intensity of his eyes.
He gripped her shoulders tighter. “There’s something I have to know—”
“I don’t have time to talk.” She wrenched from his grasp and walked away, putting the kitchen table between them to protect her from him—and herself. “Chip and I are going home.”
His startled expression indicated her announcement had driven his questions from his mind, questions she wouldn’t answer, no matter how often he posed them.
He shook his head in disbelief. “That’s not a good idea.”
She placed her hands flat on the table to stop their shaking. “I can’t hide forever, and Chip’s been through enough already. He needs the security of familiar surroundings.”
Dylan uttered an exclamation of disgust. “He needs security, all right, but—”
“I’ll call to request an alarm system be installed today, as soon as I get home.”
“And if it can’t be installed today?”
“Chip and I will stay with a friend until it’s ready.”
His face darkened. “I know you can’t see the last of me too soon—”
; Her heart contorted in pain. For a man with great deductive abilities, he didn’t have a clue.
“But I promise to keep away if you’ll just stay with my folks a few more days. Going home’s too risky right now.”
“Maybe not My guess is that the kidnapper’s long gone.”
“And if he isn’t? He knows where you live, remember? He left the ransom note at your house.”
If she listened much longer, Dylan would convince her to stay, but as unsafe as returning home might be, remaining with the Wades, even without Dylan around, was a risk she had to avoid.
“Thank you for everything, Dylan, and thank your folks for me, too.”
She swiveled on her heel and left the kitchen, pleased that she’d managed to say goodbye without losing her composure. In the guest room, she scooped a sleeping Chip out of the crib, grabbed her purse and keys and headed for the door. She had to leave the house before Margaret and Frank awoke. Dylan had almost persuaded her to stay. She wasn’t sure she could resist all three of them.
DYLAN GROUND HIS TEETH in frustration as he trailed two cars behind the sand-colored Taurus. Bone-headed stubborn, that’s what Heather was. He’d remembered how competent and efficient she had been. He’d forgotten her ornery streak. That woman could make a mule look agreeable by comparison.
And what about him? Stupidity, not stubbornness, was his problem. If he had a lick of sense, he’d be home in bed, catching up on lost sleep, instead of tailing a woman who’d welcome another opportunity to tell him to get lost. His mama had raised him to have better sense, but no, here he was chasing after someone who’d rather risk her life than spend another minute in his presence.
But he couldn’t ignore his instincts. That certain feeling in his gut had solved crimes and saved his bacon more times than he could count And right now his instincts were screeching danger at the top of their lungs. He had no idea who was after Heather and her son, or why, but that unshakable, queasy feeling in his stomach suggested whoever it was wasn’t through with them yet.
He followed at a distance when Heather turned off the interstate. He planned to take up surveillance outside her house. If she was lucky enough to have that security system installed today, he would alert the St. Pete police to keep an eye on her place. Maybe then he could leave her alone.
Who was he kidding? Only she knew the answers to too many of his questions, and this time, he intended to ask until she explained. If he had to live without her, at least he was entitled to know why.
Falling a block behind, he followed her through the quiet residential streets of North St. Petersburg. The roar of lawn mowers and leaf blowers shattered the morning silence as homeowners and lawn services hurried to complete their tasks before the day grew hotter. A peaceful, ordinary morning, the kind his would have been if Heather hadn’t rocketed back into his life yesterday and blown his calm to hell.
He paused behind a U.S. Postal Service truck while the letter carrier crammed a mailbox with envelopes and magazines, then zipped around the vehicle in time to see Heather pull into her driveway several houses down the street.
He pulled quickly to the curb and killed the engine. Wishing he’d had time to grab something to eat, he slid down in the seat and watched as she lifted Chip from the back seat and carried him into the house.
Despite his irritation, he had to admit she was a good mother and that Chip was a lucky little kid. Together the pair disappeared into the house.
Dylan was twisting in his seat, settling down for a long wait, when Heather’s front door flew open and Heather, with Chip clasped against her, raced out the door and up the street, in the direction of Dylan’s Jeep Cherokee.
He sprang out of the car and ran to meet her. “What is it?”
Her expression of wide-eyed fear shifted briefly to stunned surprise when she recognized him.
“Somebody’s in my house!”
Chapter Four
“Did the person inside hear you?” Dylan asked.
“I don’t think so.” The composure in Heather’s voice contradicted the panic in her eyes. “Drawers slamming in the living room alerted me. The noise didn’t stop when I turned and ran.”
Dylan’s outward calm hid his blistering rage at the trespasser who had terrorized Heather and her son. He hustled them into his Jeep, locked both doors and yanked his phone from his pocket.
The 911 operator answered instantly.
“We have an intruder—” He gave Heather’s address. “We don’t know if he’s armed.”
“Are you in the house?” The operator’s voice was calm, soothing.
“Everyone’s out. I’m on the street, calling from my cell phone.”
“Stay on the line, please. There’s a patrol car in your area. Help will be there soon.”
“I’m Dylan Wade, a Dolphin Bay police officer,” he explained, “and the intruder may be a kidnapper we’re after. No sirens to scare him off, okay?”
“I’ll relay your request to the officer.”
He itched to draw his gun and barge into the house, but concern for Heather and Chip prevented such recklessness. If he stormed inside, they would be left alone, unprotected, and the man could flee out the opposite door and come after them.
Dylan looked back at his Jeep. Heather sat in the passenger seat with Chip on her lap. Although alarm had drawn the muscles of her face tight, she was smiling and playing pat-a-cake with the boy. Chip bounced and giggled, apparently unaware of the danger or his mother’s anxiety.
“The officer is entering your street now,” the operator announced.
“I see him. He’s pulling up to the curb behind us.”
“I’ll turn you over to him.”
The thickset black officer strode toward Dylan. “What’s going on?”
Dylan flashed his shield and introduced himself. “When Ms. Taylor came home a few minutes ago, she heard someone in the house. Whoever’s there broke in. I don’t know if he has a weapon.”
“I’ve called for backup,” the officer—Parker, according to his name badge—said.
“Go in at the rear,” Dylan said. “I’ll cover the front. The intruder might be the man who kidnapped Ms. Taylor’s son yesterday. Dolphin Bay has an APB out on him. If it’s him, he’s armed.”
Parker nodded and drew his gun. Loping along the side yard in a crouch that kept him below window level, he headed for the back of the house.
Dylan knocked on the Jeep window, and Heather lowered the glass.
“Hi!” Chip said, with a megawatt smile that would melt glaciers.
Dylan’s heart skipped and his stomach flip-flopped at the unexpected rush of desire to pick up the boy and cuddle him. He hadn’t experienced such tenderness since his encounter at age six with a golden Labrador puppy he’d received for Christmas. The expression on Chip’s face radiated the same hero worship Bear had given him until the day the old Lab died.
Dylan cleared his throat. “Hi, big fella. You and your mom wait here, okay?”
“Ho-kay,” the boy echoed, “wait here.”
“Lean on the horn if you need me,” Dylan told Heather.
She held the boy close and nodded. “Dylan?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
He sprinted toward the house and pulled out his gun. Waiting at the front door, he listened for indications of movement inside, but Heather’s warning repeated in his mind, distracting him. Punchy from lack of sleep, he must be imagining things. For a moment, she’d sounded as if she cared what happened to him.
But she didn’t. More likely, he told himself cynically, her concern came from realizing he was the only line of defense between her and the trespasser in her house.
Tensing at the thud of footsteps in the front hall, audible through the half-open door, he raised his weapon. A second later, Officer Parker stepped out and Dylan holstered his gun.
“He took off down the alley,” the officer said. “I saw a white Mercedes speeding away when I reached the back door. He’d de
finitely been inside, though. The place is tossed. The homeowner will have to determine if anything’s missing.”
Dylan swore softly. “He’s getting away.”
“Relax, man. As soon as I confirmed the house was clear, I put out a BOLO to all units for the Mercedes. With luck, we’ll pick him up.”
Dylan nodded. The be-on-the-lookout-order would take care of the culprit for now. Meanwhile…
“Can you check the house for prints?” Dylan asked. “We need an ID on this creep.”
“Crime scene unit’s on the way. Bring the lady and her boy inside. I have some questions for my report.”
Parker entered the house, and Dylan returned to his car. Heather was waiting with the window down.
“Did they catch him?”
Dylan shook his head. “He escaped in a white Mercedes that was parked in the alley.”
Heather turned away, her lower lip trembling. He had always admired her strength, her ability to endure hardships and pressures that pushed lesser beings over the edge. Her incredible spunk had been only one of the reasons he had loved her. But the tremor in her lip reminded him that even a rock could withstand only so many blows before cracking.
Glad the car door stood between them, he resisted the overwhelming impulse to tug them both into his arms.
He opened the door. “You’d better go inside. Officer Parker has some questions, and he wants you to check if anything’s missing.”
“Dyl.” Chip grinned and stretched out his chubby arms. “Carry me.”
Dylan lifted the boy. Tiny arms encircled his neck, a downy cheek pressed against his jaw, rough with beard, and the pleasant but unfamiliar fragrance of powder and essence of baby filled his nostrils.
His heart warmed until he spotted the cold shock on Heather’s face. She had climbed out of the Jeep and stood, wide-eyed and white-faced, watching him with her son. If Dylan had been the kidnapper, she couldn’t have looked more panicked. Obviously, she didn’t want him around her kid.
With a sigh, he turned toward the house, still carrying Chip. The St. Petersburg police were on the case now. He could turn over responsibility for Heather and the boy’s safety and exit her life.
First-Class Father Page 5